


For Every Moment You Lose a Little Hope

by hollyandvice (hiasobi_writes)



Series: Holly's Round Six Trope Bingo Card [4]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: M/M, Temporary Character Death, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-25
Updated: 2016-06-25
Packaged: 2018-07-18 06:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,113
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7303216
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiasobi_writes/pseuds/hollyandvice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes all it takes is a little patience.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Every Moment You Lose a Little Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Part of my Round Six Trope Bingo Card and part three in the wingfic series for the same card. Title from [here](http://ilove-agapo.blogspot.com/2015/01/for-every-fear-that-shakes-your-peace.html).

Jack goes through a hell of a slump in the year after they win the Cup. No one really seems to blame him, and somehow that makes it ten times worse. It makes everything worse because Eric wouldn't have let him get away with the way he hides in his room on road trips, would nag and poke and harass Jack until he went out with his teammates, reluctantly grateful for the way Eric helped Jack be his best self. But with Eric gone, not even Tater had seemed to have the energy to try to drag Jack out to the bar after a good game. Jack had set up a preseason barbecue and had held it together through training camp; he had even managed to make it to the bar after games through the middle of November. But somehow, being in Providence and getting crushed by the Pens the day before American Thanksgiving only to come home to a kitchen with no signs of Eric's usual pre-Thanksgiving chaotic energy had been the last straw.

He'd called Shitty and begged him to give Jack some semblance of normalcy while he fought down the tears that were always too close to the surface these days. Shitty had obliged, and for a little while Jack had known that he would be okay.

And he is. He holds himself together on the ice and he holds himself together in the locker room and he holds himself together in front of the press but that's honestly about it. Because for all that Jack used to know how to be a whole person on his own, he'd thought he wouldn't have to do that again, and so he's forgotten a lot of those coping mechanisms. But he'll figure it out. Just as much for himself as for Eric. He'll figure this out and get back on track and maybe. Maybe one day he'll be able to believe that what they had was worth Eric's life.

——

The night they clinch a playoff spot in Tampa, Tater marches over to stand in front of Jack's stall, arms crossed and a sharp look on his face. "Zimmboni coming out tonight, yes?"

Jack blinks, eyes catching on the way the whole locker room has gone still at the question. He swallows the automatic denial and smiles up at Tater. "Yeah. Hell yeah I'm coming out tonight. Wouldn't miss it."

The tension goes out of Tater's shoulders and the rest of the room, and Jack has to try not to flinch at the reminder that the whole team has been walking on eggshells around him for almost an entire season. That Tater and Marty have carried the team while Jack himself fought through the haze just to try to keep playing. That somehow, despite all of it, they've all stood by his side in spite of how difficult he's made it for them.

It's not right. It's time Jack stopped hiding behind his grief and started owning the trust his team has spent a year giving him. It's time he earned the A on his chest.

As soon as he's finished changing back into his gameday suit, he gets to his feet and the whole room goes still, all of them looking up at him with varying levels of surprise. "Listen," he starts, somehow still not entirely sure what he's going to say despite the time he's had to think on it. "You guys have done a hell of a thing, getting us here. I know I haven't been the best teammate this year, but you've all stood by me, and that means more than you guys know. We're gonna kick some ass down the stretch and then we're gonna keep doing what we've been doing once we hit the playoffs. We've got a hell of a team here, and we're going to keep playing the best way we know how. But for tonight, we're gonna go out there and we're gonna celebrate making it to the playoffs. We've earned it." A loud cheer goes up in the locker room, and Jack can't stop the grin that spreads over his face. His chest still aches, but there's something softer about it. Something gentler. Like it's healed a little, just by his acceptance of his team.

It feels like things might actually be getting better.

——

They take Boston to seven in the second round, but in the end it's not enough, the long run last season finally wearing on the guys that came back and the energy of the call-ups not enough to power them all the way through. Jack tries not to bear the brunt of the loss on his own shoulders but years of habit are hard to break. He puts on his best media smile and makes it onto the plane back to Providence and avoids saying goodbye since locker cleanout is the next day. Through some miracle born of years of habit, he makes it home in one piece. He grabs the mail, rifling through it (junk, junk, bill from Dr. Monahan, junk) as he makes his way up to the apartment that he still hasn't been able to convince himself to move out of. It isn't until he's toeing his shoes off that he realizes that something's amiss.

He drops his bag but holds onto his stick, creeping slowly toward the kitchen from which something that smells way too similar to what Jack remembers of Eric's maple-crusted apple pies is emanating. And he doesn't know what's going on, but if this is Lardo's idea of the best way to greet him when he's just gotten back from getting bumped from the playoffs she's got another thing coming.

But when he rounds the corner, he isn't met with the familiar black of Lardo's hair or even Shitty's bare ass on his pristine countertops that haven't seen nearly enough use in the last year. No. Instead, he's met with the sound of Beyoncé and the sight of broad white wings and a blond head bopping along to the music while it moves around the kitchen. Jack drops his stick, clearly startling the intruder if the way they jump about a foot in the air is any indication.

"Goodness gracious, Jack, you about scared me half to death!"

Jack can only stare, trying to make sense of what he's seeing.

"I'd apologize for just making myself right at home, but if the fact that you've kept my pantry stocked is any indication, I was pretty sure you wouldn't mind," he chatters on, voice light and airy and Jack can't breathe. "And anyway, you know I can't sit still, and I figured after a game like that you'd at least want--"

"Eric?"

Eric stops moving, as though just realizing the utter shock he's just induced in Jack. His face softens and he approaches Jack slowly, his posture relaxed as though he's approaching a wild animal. "Hey," he says softly, eyeing Jack carefully. "Hey, Jack. It's just me."

"But you… I… how--"

Eric reaches out a tentative hand and Jack grabs for it, desperate to believe that this isn't a dream. Eric's hand is soft and warm and solid in Jack's and Jack can't help but reel him in, clutching tight to the body that's just as warm and solid in his arms. Eric reaches up to return the embrace, humming gently as he does. "It's me, Jack. I'm okay."

Jack tightens his hold on Eric, uncaring of the way his wings make the embrace a little more awkward than he's used to, and struggles to maintain his composure. " _How_ \--?"

"They sent me back to you, Jack," Eric says, holding Jack just as tightly. "They let me come home."

Jack pulls back, drinking in the sight of Eric's face and feeling like he's just come up from a year underwater. He stares for longer than is probably socially acceptable, but Eric doesn't seem upset, seems to be watching Jack with just as much focus. It takes a minute for Eric's words to sink in, and Jack can't help but feel that there's something else going on that Eric isn't saying. "What's the catch?" he asks, hoping that there isn't one.

Eric's face goes soft. "They're giving me a year with you full-time, but then I'm going to have to take on other charges, just like everybody else."

Jack frowns, thrown for a loop. "Charges?"

Eric rolls his eyes, something about the familiar, affectionate motion setting Jack's stomach rolling. "You didn't read Dr. Monahan's email while you were in Boston, did you?" Jack doesn't even have time to shake his head before Eric's reaching up to cup Jack's face in his own. "I'm a guardian angel, Jack," he says, something shy in his words. " _Your_ guardian angel. If you want me to be."

Jack stares at Eric for a long moment, hardly daring to believe that he's been given back the one thing that he never thought he would have again. He reaches up, ghosting his fingers through Eric's hair. "A year, you said. And then?"

"And then I get other charges. Other people that need a guardian angel looking out for them. It's a job, and it'll take me away from home sometimes, but," Eric shrugs, looking more and more uncertain by the moment. "But at least I'd be here. If," and here Eric swallows again, eyes darting away as his hands slip from Jack's face. "If you want me here."

All at once Jack can see what his hesitance is doing to Eric, and he reaches out, holding Eric's hands tight in his own. "Oh, god, Eric, of course I want you here, I just." He swallows, trying to find his words. "I just don't know if I could survive losing you again."

Eric's face softens. "I'll be here, Jack. I made them promise they'd let me stay with you if they were going to let me back to you at all. I…." Eric shakes his head. "I don't know if I could survive losing you again either."

Jack nods, not entirely reassured, but feeling better with Eric's every assurance. "And the wings? They're permanent now?"

"Oh!" Eric jumps a little, and glances over his shoulders at them. "No. No, they're not permanent. I just got used to them while I was training." He turns back to Jack, closing his eyes and, with a soft _pop_ , the wings disappear.

Somehow, it's that more than anything else that tells Jack that this is real. That he can have this again. But Eric's still biting his lip, looking for all the world like he doesn't believe that _he_ gets to have this, and that simply won't do. So Jack reaches up, unclasping the chain that he's worn every day for the last year, closing his eyes as he fumbles with the clasp. When he opens his eyes and looks back to Eric, it's to see a confused look on his face, and Jack can't help but smile back. He slides the ring off the chain and holds it out to Eric, who takes it, confusion melting into reverence. "Monahan took it off when he picked you up last year and gave it to me to hang onto. I kept trying to convince myself to put it away, but I just… I couldn't let you go that easily, Eric. And I'm going to do my damnedest not to let you go ever again. So if you'll have me, I would be honored to be your first charge."

Eric bites his lip, and Jack can see the telltale glistening in his eyes. Jack only has an instant's warning before he has an armful of Eric once again, and he can't help but laugh as he curls around his fiancé, holding him tight. "Of course, Jack. It's all I've been working for for the last year." He pulls back, eyes still suspiciously bright as he smiles up at Jack. "I'd be proud to be yours again, Jack. So damn proud."

As Jack leans down and captures Eric's lips with his own for the first time in almost a year, he doesn't think of the press release he'll have to send to Georgia in the morning. He doesn't think of having to share Eric with other charges come next May. He doesn't think of calling Lardo or Shitty or the rest of the dozens of other people that will want to know that Eric's okay.

All he thinks of as the oven beeps and Eric pulls deftly out of his arms and runs back to the oven is the fact that this, at long last, feels like home again.

**Author's Note:**

> [Come hang with me on tumblr!](http://hollyandvice.tumblr.com/)


End file.
